


so take it easy on me

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yuuri is Hungry for the D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “You alright there, Yuuri?” Mila asks, eyebrows knotting in concern as she skates towards him. “Is Vitya riding you too hard?”“He’s not riding me hard enough,” Yuuri bites out.





	so take it easy on me

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this for nsfw victuuri week, but i uh, ran out of steam for that so...yeah. admittedly not my best work, but i just wanted to finish something that's _not_ a ward report/case study for once so uh, you have this. i hope that it's the slightest bit enjoyable!!
> 
> did a quick readthrough + forochel did some editing for this a long time ago. any and all remaining mistakes are mine. hit me up if there are super glaring ones!

“Keep your thighs together for me, lovely.”

The sheet between his teeth is the only thing stopping Yuuri from saying something incredibly bitchy. He’s on his elbows and knees, face red as Viktor’s thick cock fucks between his thighs.

Viktor’s just a few centimeters away from where Yuuri wants him the most and it’s _so damn frustrating_. Because Yuuri wants Viktor inside, wants Viktor to split him open on his cock, wants to take Viktor inside him and bounce up and down on his lap and ride him until the sun peeks over the horizon.

A whine claws its way up his throat and Viktor speeds up obligingly, one hand reaching over to wrap long fingers around Yuuri’s cock. “Just a bit more, darling,” Viktor promises, leaning forward so that they’re pressed flush together. “I’ll take care of you,” he says, lips painting the words into Yuuri’s flushed skin as Viktor’s hips stutter, cock pulsing between Yuuri’s trembling thighs and painting them with come.

Yuuri shivers at the sensation, a dizzying wave of lust sizzling underneath his skin. They’ve always used protection because it made for easier cleanup, but now, _now_ Yuuri’s thinking about how it would feel if they didn’t. If Viktor came inside him and filled him up with his seed, painting Yuuri’s insides with come that’d dribble out of Yuuri’s hole afterwards, and maybe, maybe Viktor would clean him up with fingers, lips and tongue—

“Vity _ah_!”

The moan punches out of him, unbidden, just as Viktor carefully turns him on his back and swallows him down in a single breath. Viktor’s mouth is hot and wet, tongue tracing up the underside of Yuuri’s cock before it dips into the slit, pulling a sob from deep within Yuuri’s heaving chest. When the head of his cock hits the back of Viktor’s throat, Yuuri is gone, mind wiped of anything else but the feeling of Viktor swallowing around him.

Spit-slick fingers rub teasingly at his rim and Yuuri gasps, feeling his hole twitch in anticipation, hungry for it. But like every other night since they started intensive training for the new season, Viktor’s fingers only skim teasingly, never breaching Yuuri where he so desperately wants.

“Vitya,” he pants, fingers clutching at silver locks, wordlessly urging Viktor to just get on with it, because Yuuri wants it, needs it so, _so bad_. “Vitya, please.”

Like every other night, Viktor doesn’t take the hint.

Like every other night, Yuuri’s afterglow is tinged with frustration.

 

.

 

The annoying thing is that Yuuri gets it.

Viktor’s only being a responsible coach and Yuuri gets it, really he does. The responsible athlete in him appreciates it, even.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling just a tad slighted or griping to Phichit about it though.

“—and it’s not like we’re not having sex?” Yuuri tells Phichit on a quiet Friday afternoon. Viktor’s still at the rink, giving Yuuri time to Skype with Phichit about the situation. “Because we are. It’s just not the kind I want.”

Because what Yuuri wants is to be fucked so hard he’ll feel it for weeks. Not good for jumps or skating in general, but it’ll satisfy the bone-deep desire he hasn’t felt since he was a horny teenager discovering sex for the very first time.

“Yuuri,” Phichit starts, voice tinny as he squints into the camera. “There’s a really simple solution for this, and that is to actually talk to Viktor, who is your fiancé, and tell him that the whole intercrural thing or whatever it is, isn’t working for you and what you need is for him to plow you into next year.”

“Phichit!”

“What?” Phichit rolls his eyes, shrugging as he does so. “It’s true!”

Shaking his head incredulously, Yuuri says, “I can’t just come out and say that!”

“Well, why not?” Phichit demands, moving closer to the screen so he can level Yuuri with an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s obviously bothering you so much that you’re willingly divulging the details of your sordid sex life to me. Not that I’m complaining.”  

Yuuri makes a strangled noise in response, fighting the very tempting urge to throw his phone away and become one with the couch. His sex life is _not_ sordid.

“Yuuri, just talk to Viktor about it. He’ll understand. The man’s so gone for you that if you asked for the moon, he’d probably ask if you wanted the stars too _._ ”

A shy smile spreads slowly on his lips. “You really think so?” Yuuri asks even as he knows it deep in his heart to be true.

“I know so,” is Phichit’s reply, quickly followed by, “now that that’s settled, let me tell you about my idea for my exhibition skate—”

 

.

 

Kisses trail down his spine, open-mouthed and biting, leaving scorching marks along his back. The innocent massage had quickly devolved into shameless fondling on Viktor’s part and poorly-concealed anticipation on Yuuri’s as large hands knead at his ass, spreading his cheeks and exposing his hole to the cool air of their bedroom.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps like a man starved and Yuuri can’t help but moan in response. “Can I?” The question is punctuated by a thumb pressing temptingly against Yuuri’s rim, the slight pressure already has him coming undone, mind going crazy with it and belting out a litany of _yesyesyes._

“Yes,” he says with a wiggle of his hips, spreading his legs and throwing a smoldering look at Viktor over his shoulder. “Yes, pl—”

He barely has the rest of the word out before Viktor is leaning in and burying his face in his ass and licking a broad stripe up his taint that has Yuuri letting out a strangled moan. And then Viktor’s thumbs are spreading him open, licking inside and Yuuri yields easily, body soft and pliant as Viktor starts to fuck into him with his tongue. His cock hangs heavy between his legs and Yuuri feels carved open with every thrust of Viktor’s tongue, his greedy hole clenching, wanting something bigger to force him open and fill him up.

Fingers scrabbling on the sheets, Yuuri reaches blindly for the bottle of lube under the pillows and all but throws it at Viktor, who’s moved on to sucking at his rim.

“Darling?”

“I want you to—” Yuuri falters, the _fuck me_ dying a very tragic death on his tongue when he meets Viktor’s eyes, embarrassment rearing its ugly head. Which is silly because he’s pretty sure that he’s said worse things, filthier things that rightfully belong in a porno during the heat of the moment, and asking Viktor to fuck him should be child’s play by now. Except it isn’t and Yuuri can feel his resolve crumble away and he ends up shyly lowering his lashes and saying, “Touch me, please.”

Viktor’s sharp intake of breath is loud in the silence of the room and Yuuri’s gasp immediately arrives at its heels when a squirt of lubricant hits his hole. The shudder that runs through him feels more like a tiny earthquake, a shockwave that shakes his very core as rough, calloused fingers spread the slick along his cleft, rubbing along his entrance. He’s waiting for the familiar burn, for Viktor’s fingers to slip inside, for the stretch.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he hears Viktor shift behind him, and before he can open his mouth to ask just what the hell Viktor thinks he’s doing, Yuuri feels the hard line of Viktor’s cock press against the cleft of his ass while large hands squeeze the cheeks together and _ohmygod_ —

If Yuuri thought Viktor fucking between his thighs was bad, it’s nothing compared to now.

Because with every thrust, the head of Viktor’s cock catches against his rim, and it’s an exquisite kind of torture that has actual tears of frustration blurring Yuuri’s vision. Any other day, Yuuri thinks he’d probably enjoy this, would ride the edge with relish, but now, it only fans the flames of dissatisfaction burning at the pit of his stomach.

When he comes, Viktor wringing out an orgasm out of him with clever fingers and a lavish mouth, it’s with a choked-off moan that he smothers in a pillow to hide the annoyance lancing through it.

“Was that alright, lyubimiy?”

Yuuri sniffs, burying his face into the pillow. “It was fine, Vitya.”

Except that it’s really, really not.

 

.

 

Figure skaters are emotional creatures with glass hearts that rest inside fragile chests and Yuuri’s always been known as the skater with the biggest glass heart. So it’s only a matter of time for his frustration to bleed into his skating.

“You alright there, Yuuri?” Mila asks, eyebrows knotting in concern as she skates towards him. She glances at where Viktor is engaged in a conversation/screaming match with Yakov then back to Yuuri, who’s on the last legs of his cool down routine. “Is Vitya riding you too hard?”

“He’s not riding me hard enough,” he bites out, acerbic, carving an almost vehement line with the tip of his skate.

Yuuri only realizes what he just said when he hears Mila’s wheeze of laughter and he’s immediately slapping a hand over his own traitorous mouth. He can feel everyone’s eyes looking at them curiously as Mila dissolves into giggles, hanging onto his forearms for support. Yuuri wants to die and he thinks he just might when he spots Yurio skating his way over to them, obviously wanting in on their conversation. As if Yuuri needed another teenager laughing about his sex life. Granted, Yurio will probably grumble and yell about it.

“ _Ohmygod, Yuuri_.” Mila’s still guffawing, one hand leaving Yuuri’s arm to wipe at her eyes.

Cheeks burning, Yuuri splutters, “I’m so sorry, I have no idea what came over me.”

“Uh. Unresolved sexual tension?”

“Mila!”

Mila just laughs even harder and slips down onto the ice with a shriek.

 

.

 

It’s as they say: if you want something done right, do it yourself.

Yuuri decides to take matters into his own hands on a Friday afternoon; if Viktor won’t fuck him, well—fine. _Fine_ ; he has toys for that and he’ll just have to make do.

They’ve just finalized the choreography changes for his FS, and Yuuri’s pleasantly sore and buzzing with leftover energy. Viktor’s still at the rink, polishing his own choreography after he sent Yuuri home with firm instructions to “ _rest, lapochka, I want you in top shape for tomorrow._ ”

And Yuuri will; he just plans to come a total of four times this afternoon before taking a nice, soothing bath, and Viktor will be none the wiser.

Once he’s taken a quick but thorough shower and made sure Makka is fed, Yuuri begins to prepare. He has a little less than two hours to loosen up, so to speak, until Viktor comes home, and Yuuri will not risk his chance in getting a satisfying orgasm after months of not having one. It’s Viktor’s fault, really; their decadent off-season lifestyle had ruined Yuuri for life.

The bottle of lube and bright blue vibrator tumble down onto the bed, followed by Yuuri, who’s clad in nothing but Viktor’s red and white Team Russia Olympic jacket.

_Go big or go home_ , Yuuri figures.

He takes a deep, calming breath as he settles down on the bed; propped up on a small mountain of pillows, glasses off and legs splayed wide, half-hard cock resting on his stomach. Yuuri hums, as if to get rid of the tension building up low on his belly, and reaches up to grab the collar of the jacket and breathes in deeply, inhaling Viktor’s scent until he’s dizzy with it, his cock plumping up even further.

With his nose still buried in the fabric of Viktor’s jacket, Yuuri trails his hands down his chest and makes sure to brush them against his nipples, rubbing until they’re stiff peaks. He’s fully hard now, positively aching, and Yuuri lets out a hiss when he takes himself in hand. It’s a rough drag, aided only by the precome leaking from his slit, and he manages one, two, three more strokes before he’s reaching for the bottle of lube digging against his hip.

The cold squirt of the lubricant against his palm is a moment of startling clarity in the haze of lust he’s worked himself into. Yuuri makes quick work of slicking himself up, creating such a mess of the sheets that he’ll have to change them before Viktor comes back. He gives his cock a few more pumps, and then he’s reaching lower, fingers ghosting along the sensitive skin of his balls and his perineum until he reaches the tight furl of his hole.

With his eyes closed and Viktor’s scent suffusing him with each greedy lungful, Yuuri can easily imagine his fiancé hovering above him, large hands replacing his own as they carefully position his legs so that he’s spread open; lewd and so, so exposed and all for Viktor to do with as he pleases. A moan punches out of him when a slick finger slips inside, barely even past the first knuckle. His fingers are much shorter than Viktor’s, thinner too, but Yuuri doggedly perseveres with his fantasy until he has three fingers inside his clenching entrance, and his breath is leaving his lips in needy, breathy whines.

When the stretch of three fingers fades and he can curl them in and out of himself with ease, Yuuri wastes no time reaching for the vibrator and slicking it up. The toy, one of his ill-advised purchases back in Detroit that’s followed him to St. Petersburg, isn’t particularly impressive in terms of length or girth. However, it does boast a powerful motor that’s rocked Yuuri’s world over the years, and is a lovely blue color reminiscent of Viktor’s eyes, easily making it one of Yuuri’s favorites. It’s been a while since he’s used it, but his body remembers it easily enough as he pushes it in until the blunt tip brushes against his prostate.

He fumbles a bit at the flared base and it comes to life with a low hum that tingles up his spine. Perhaps some other time, Yuuri will tease himself until he’s skirting the edge of too much, but this time, he only allows himself to get used to the buzz before twisting it up to third setting.

“ _Fffuck._ ”

The moan crawls out of his throat just in time for the sound of something falling on the hardwood floor to break through his concentration, and Yuuri’s eyes wrench open to see Viktor standing by the doorway, wide-eyed and slack-jawed _and_ _two hours too early_.

Well, _shit._

“Viktor—”

“Oh no, no,” Viktor breathes out when Yuuri makes a move to remove the vibrator buzzing inside him. “Don’t stop on my account, kotyenok,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him and making his leisurely way towards the bed.

Yuuri whines, shame bubbling at very pit of his stomach at having been caught. He can’t move, can’t do anything except clench uselessly around the toy as Viktor settles heavily on the bed, close enough to touch.

“How many settings does this have?” Viktor asks, eyes zeroing in where Yuuri is shameless and wanting before he levels his stare back at Yuuri. When Yuuri doesn’t answer, Viktor reaches out to tap at the base of the vibrator, making Yuuri cry out when the movement makes the toy jostle against his prostate. “Hm?”

“S-six.”

Viktor hums, gaze almost like a physical touch as his eyes trace along Yuuri’s trembling bottom lip, to the stiff peaks of his nipples, down to his straining cock, before finally settling on Yuuri’s slick entrance. “Can you handle the highest setting?” He asks with a flutter of pale eyelashes, just like he might ask Yuuri to do a hundred quad flips without wiping out on the ice.

It’s a clear challenge and Yuuri responds as he is wont to whenever Viktor throws down the gauntlet.

“ _Yes_.”

A sharp grin is the only warning Yuuri gets before Viktor is reaching for the base of the vibrator buried inside him, the smooth leather of Viktor’s glove brushing against Yuuri’s sensitive rim as he cranks up the vibrations to the highest setting. It should’ve been fine. Yuuri’s owned and used this toy for _years_.

He knows he can take it.

Of course, he’s never had to deal with the vibrator’s highest setting while being fucked with it.

“ _Viktor! Ff—ahh—uck!_ ”

It’s too little and too much at the same time and Yuuri only lasts through maybe half a dozen punishing thrusts before he’s coming all over his stomach, screaming a litany of Japanese curse words interspersed with Viktor’s name. He’s shaking in the aftermath, almost sobbing when Viktor tugs the vibrator out.

“Vitya, please,” Yuuri sobs, watching with glazed eyes as Viktor settles between his spread legs, erection already tenting his pants, and Yuuri feels his insides shift in anticipation. He’s high on endorphins still, but Yuuri can already feel the restlessness settling underneath his skin, and he’s more than eager for Viktor to fill him up and fuck him already.

“Look at what you’ve done to your pretty little hole,” Viktor tuts, tugging a glove off so that he can trace Yuuri’s slick and swollen entrance without the leather in the way. “So greedy for it,” he muses aloud before sinking a thumb inside.

“It’s your fault,” Yuuri moans, hips moving as Viktor thrusts his thumb shallowly, little teasing jerks against his sensitized rim.

“Oh? Is it?”

This time, Viktor replaces his thumb and pushes two fingers in easily, leaning down to mouth wetly at the base of Yuuri’s half-hard cock. The vicious way Viktor’s fucking Yuuri with his fingers contrasts sharply with how he’s lavishing praise on Yuuri’s dick with his lips and tongue, and it’s such a dizzying disparity that it’s not long before Yuuri is fully hard once again, leaking precome and making an even bigger mess of himself.

“Vitya—I want—”

Viktor hums, rubbing insistent circles against the spot that makes Yuuri burn each and every time. “What do you want, lapochka?” He asks, now suckling at the glistening glans, making obscene slurping sounds.

“Your cock. Please, please I want your cock.”

The smile that Viktor gives him is a beatific thing that’s at odds with the almost frantic way he straightens up to unbuckle his belt and pull at his zipper. Viktor doesn’t even bother undressing, just gets his dick out before reaching for the lube, and Yuuri can’t help but whimper at the image he makes—Viktor still in his black button-down and slacks, his thick cock curved up and already glistening with precome against his stomach.

“I’ll give it to you,” Viktor says, already in the process of tearing into a condom packet when an idea slams into Yuuri, leaving him breathless and dizzy with desire, skin blooming an even brighter shade of red.

“Don’t,” Yuuri gasps and Viktor pauses, a pale eyebrow rising in question. “I want to feel you,” Yuuri murmurs as he reaches down to spread his cheeks and show off his slick and twitching hole, before gazing up at Viktor coquettishly through his lashes. “I want you to fill me up with your come.”

“ _Blyad_.”

Viktor quickly abandons the condom packet in favor of throwing Yuuri’s legs over his shoulders and grabbing at his hips, grip tight and bruising, as he slides in without much fanfare, thick and perfect, stuffing Yuuri full in one deep thrust.

Fucking _finally_.

 

 

.

 

 

They don’t make it to practice the next day.

Viktor can’t even remember the message he’d sent to Yakov while he’d been balls-deep in Yuuri’s mouth—one hand playing with the wide, glass plug he’d teased inside his darling fiancé after the seventh round and Yuuri had whined pitifully when come trickled out of his abused entrance, hole winking to try and keep it all in—and he can only hope that it was mildly coherent.

The last thing he needs is for Yakov to send someone to check on them after all.

Especially when Viktor still has a pretty young thing wriggling wantonly in his lap.

“You’re insatiable,” he rumbles, sliding a hand down Yuuri’s sweat-slick back to tap at the glass plug nestled between the globes of that perfect ass and is rewarded with a full-body shiver.

Yuuri chokes on a laugh. “You love it.”

God help him, he does, and Viktor sends up a prayer to the heavens when his cock tries to give a valiant twitch when Yuuri pants hotly into his ear. “You should have told me earlier,” he murmurs into the hollow of Yuuri’s neck, mouthing wetly at the thin skin. “That you were unsatisfied.”

“I did.”

“With words, lyubimiy,” Viktor scolds with a sharp tug on the plug that has Yuuri sobbing out his next breath and clutching frantically at his shoulders. “Much as I love and adore you with every fiber of my being, we’ve yet to accomplish telepathy.”

Instead of the belligerent huff Viktor is expecting from him, Yuuri just gives him a _look_ and says, voice in that register that never fails to make Viktor’s heart skip a beat, “fine. I’ll tell you every single thing I want you to do to me and I expect you to deliver.”

“I look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> yuuri does eventually get the d
> 
> apologies for the cop out on the porn. i'm...not in the proper headspace for it haha.


End file.
